


Sweetest Submission

by StormyDaze



Series: Consentacles [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Consentacles, Cults, Eldritch Gods - Freeform, Enthusiastic Broodmare for Monsters, Extra Treat, Other, Overstimulation, Oviposition, Sounding, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 01:38:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20301313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormyDaze/pseuds/StormyDaze
Summary: Caden is completely devoted to his god.





	Sweetest Submission

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Soulstoned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soulstoned/gifts).

Caden is completely devoted to his god.

There are other disciples, but they don’t have his commitment. He watches them scornfully as they putter around the old, creaking farmhouse that has become their church, their sanctuary, their temple. They chatter with one another about such mundanities as the weather, gossip about what Father Ryan said to Sister Josie. Sometimes at night, lying on his thin mattress on the floor, he can hear the soft gasps and groans they make as they touch themselves, or each other. Disgusting, that they would sully themselves this way. He will be pure for his god, ready for the task at hand.

He goes about his assigned chores in silence, and spends whatever time he has left in meditation and prayer. The others consider him odd, he knows. He doesn’t care. They will be punished for their lack of faith.

On the night of the summer solstice, Father Ryan leads them out into the cornfield and directs them to tamp down the corn into the appropriate sigils. Apprehension flutters in Caden’s stomach. He’s waited so long for this, and now that the time is upon him, he can hardly contain himself. He focuses on the ritual chants, letting the hypnotic rhythm soothe him. He must be patient.

When the sigils are placed, the disciples gather together. Their voices rise louder and louder as they chant the sacred words. One by one, they each pull a knife from their sleeve and slash open a hand or an arm, spilling blood onto the soil, an offering. 

At first there is a rumble, so soft that Caden isn’t sure he really hears it, but it grows louder and louder, shaking in his chest until he feels like he might burst. The sound grows higher in pitch until it becomes an unearthly wail, and before them, a mass of darkness rises up out of the cornfield until it towers over them, fifty feet tall at least, a writhing, churning mass of pure black. Looking at it makes Caden feel like he’s falling. His cock throbs, and he realizes that he’s hard beneath the thin robe he wears. He’s never wanted anything in his life so much as this.

Someone behind him screams. One of the other disciples, Shelby, turns and runs, and a thick ropey tentacle of night lashes out and ensnares her before she can make it more than ten feet. She shrieks like livestock being slaughtered as the darkness drips over her, pouring in through her mouth and nose and ears until it completely envelops her and she disappears from sight.

No one else tries to run.

The disciples huddle together, sobbing in terror, whispering a litany of pleas for mercy. Caden does not join them. Instead, he steps forward, arms flung wide in invitation. _Let me serve you, _he thinks. _Take me and make me yours._

A tentacle snakes across the ground, slower than the one that grabbed Shelby. At the same time, Caden feels something press against his mind, a vast weight that threatens to snuff him out like a candle. He relaxes as much as he can and opens himself up to it.

Y̷̤̿̂̃ǫ̴͉̾ṳ̸̈̊͠ ̶̥̗̜̔̚͘ā̶̫͈̪r̷̻̻̬͑ẹ̶̩̖̅̓ ̷̻̕̕s̴̛̪̰t̸̖͙͊r̷̓͜o̵̲͍͔͋n̸̦͐̈́g̴̩̣̤̒,̴̞̗̚͝ a voice says in his head. A voice like shattering glass and train crashes and fireworks. Y̶̛̰̔̂o̸̝͐ů̴̡̹̼̋͠ ̵̻͓͖͊̾̏w̵̝̒̿͝i̴̟̙̇l̶͔̰͊̓͑l̸͔̣̻͂̇ ̷̉͘͜b̶̘͛̊͠r̶̜̞͎̿͠į̸̭̆̈́n̶̹͚͆̃g̶̱̞̫̐̚ ̶̭͈̂m̵̗̦͂̃y̵̟̖͉͐ ̶̰̽͗ò̴̢̰̣͛f̸̛̦̥͗̚f̸̧̰͌̎̒s̵̝̜̪̍͌̂p̵̜̅̄̓r̵̢̻͙͋͑̕i̸̮̦͍͗n̶͍͈̈́͆ĝ̶̨̛̹͗ ̸̗̗̈̅i̵̺͑n̶͙̱̲͆̈́ṭ̵̩̌͘o̷̧͘ ̷̥̣̝̈t̴̨̳̝͛̚h̴̹̄͛́ì̷̦͐̈́͜š̷̨̥̽̔͜ ̵͚̘͚̈̓w̶̱̕ő̴͙r̶̬̓̕l̶͎̫͓̿ḑ̸͉̬̎͠.̷͖̟̈

“Yes,” Caden says out loud. “Yes, please, use me, breed me, make me yours.”

More tentacles slither towards him. They twine up his legs and across his torso, rucking up his robe until he yanks it over his head to give them better access. They feel odd, smooth and wet and cool but not too cold. One curves gently around his throat, not choking him, but providing enough weight that he knows it could if it wanted to. The tip slides between his lips, and he sucks eagerly. It tastes salty and sweet at the same time, and he moans and sucks harder as it fills his mouth with the delicious slime. The tentacle presses farther into his mouth, down his throat, and he wills himself not to gag, lest it be seen as a rejection. Still, his throat convulses around it, and he breathes as deeply as he can through his nose.

There are tentacles wrapped all around his arms and legs and torso, and they gently lift him off the ground and cradle him in the air. Two of the tiniest, barely thicker than spaghetti noodles, twist and pinch at his nipples, drawing them up into hard peaks. Another fondles his balls and traces over his taint, so gentle that it almost tickles. When one twists itself around his rock-hard cock, he jerks hard, chasing sensation, but it continues to slide slowly, teasing him. The tip pokes itself into his slit about half an inch and then withdraws, thrusting in and out, a minuscule model of what he knows is to come.

It’s almost too much when he feels a tentacle rub over the rim of his asshole. It slides inside him, not roughly but at an even, inexorable pace. The stretch burns, but the cool slime is soothing, and soon pleasure is sparking along all his nerves. It’s nothing like having his cock touched; this makes him feel full and heavy, like being wrapped tightly in a blanket, except the pressure is coming from inside rather than outside. 

Caden feels a restless energy thrumming through him, an urge to fuck himself down on the tentacle in his ass and rut up into the one around his cock, and he manages a few weak thrusts with his hips, but the tentacles caressing his thighs hold him so tightly, and his limbs feel heavy and sluggish. ̴͈̱̮̓S̴̛̤̕h̵̯͛ȟ̸̬͚̆̈́ḧ̸̞̜́́͜h̸͓̱̀h̶̞̬̿̒,̷͉̮̘̉͂ says the voice in his head. Ÿ̷̪͉́o̴̯͍̖̓̕͝ǘ̵̥̥̜r̸̺͗ͅ ̸͔̜͊̒b̵͓͈͋̋͝o̵̭̗͒̅͘d̶̻͎̬͘y̸̲ ̸̨̪͕̌́į̴̤͇̍̎͒s̴̠͘ ̴̧͒͝m̷̙̅͘i̵̦͐̃n̴̬̎ẽ̷̻̤̃͗.̵̥͎̰̈́̂̂ ̵͉͖̂Í̵̤̳͇̃̈́ ̷̢̖̑̈̍ͅd̴̡͔͇̈́̓͒ȯ̸̤̘̏̚ ̸̳̫̓w̴̻̟͖̿̂i̸̳̿̅t̸̩͌̾ͅh̴̼̹͎̉͋ ̸̮͑̄ī̶͉͚͛ẗ̴͙̈́ ̸̛̣̍ŵ̴͖̤̖̈́h̷̢́̃á̵͚̞t̶̘͙̎ ̶̖̳̉͜I̷̪͠ ̵̣̣̫͂͘w̷͈̘̃i̵̺͗l̶̯̙̅̽l̶̻͈̔̈́̐.̶̪̣̩̆ 

Caden lets it take him. The tentacle in his ass thrusts in and out, the rhythm at odds with the one in his cock, and _oh, _that must be his prostate, because it sends sparks of pleasure running through his body. The one in his throat begins to move as well, and Caden would never have thought having his throat fucked could feel so good, but it does. The tentacles wrapped around his body begin to writhe, touching erogenous zones he didn’t know he had: his wrists, behind his knees, under his ears. It’s too much sensation, it’s overwhelming and there’s nothing he can do but lie there and take in every bit of it. A second tentacle joins the first one in his ass, stretching him even more as they fuck him open, and he’s trembling so hard he feels like he’s about to fall apart. The heat and the pressure keep building and building, and he wants to come but with his cock plugged up and the tentacles tugging his balls down, there’s no way he can. He whines around the tentacle in his mouth.

A̶͍͊͆͜r̴̘̠̈́̑̕ͅę̶͙͋͜ ̷͚́̂y̸̱͖͉͊ȏ̷͕̇͛u̶̯͆́ ̶̢͗r̵̡͙͕͌̈́e̴̝͓͖̎̾a̶̧̡̭͑d̷̡̰͕͗͘͝y̸̨͠ͅ?̵̘͚͐̈́̚ the voice asks. Caden nods, feeling the the tentacle in his throat. The tentacle in his cock pulls out and the ones in his ass thrust in hard and he comes explosively, losing himself in bliss so wonderful that it hurts, like staring too long into a beautiful bright light. His back arches and he shakes through his orgasm before collapsing back down into the cradle of tentacles. Their gentle movements over his oversensitive skin are almost unbearable, but he breathes and he loses himself in the haze of endorphins.

They’re not done, though. Something is pressing up against his ass, something round and hard and bigger than the tentacles that opened him up. He knows what this is, knows that his purpose is to carry his god’s children, but for a moment his faith wavers. He is so tired, his body wrung out and sore, and he doesn’t know if he can take any more of this.

His god doesn’t care, doesn’t wait for him. The first egg pushes inside his hole, and even with the slick cool slime to ease the way, it burns as it stretches his rim. But then the widest part is through and his ass seems to swallow it up, pulling it deeper inside of him. He can feel his hips shift apart to take the egg and then it’s in, warm and heavy inside him, and he feels proud, that he is indeed worthy of this.

The second egg seems to go easier, and the third one after that. They press against his prostate as they slide into him, and in a short time he finds himself growing aroused again, the push of each egg once more pleasurable instead of overwhelming. The tentacles still stroking his cock help. Soon he’s once more hard and aching, trying to thrust upward even though his hips are firmly pinned. 

Another egg, and then another. Caden looks down and can see his round stomach reaching up in front of him. His skin is webbed with livid red stretch marks. A tentacle traces over them, rubbing his growing belly, and Caden groans. He watches his stomach grow larger and larger with each egg added, until he’s so full that he thinks he might be crushed under the weight of it, until he thinks his skin might split open and spill out all those lovely eggs.

The voice in his head makes a sound of derision. Å̴͔̳͂n̷̛̜̕d̴̳̙͊͘͝ ̴̰̭̇ẅ̷͔̟̭͛͑h̶̞͌ǎ̷̩t̶̹͌̄ ̷̹͖̤͊̀̂w̶̠̖͛̐ͅo̷̠̐̓u̷̳͇̒l̶̰͇͙̍͌̈́d̶̘̥̿̅͑ ̷͙̏b̸̢̲͖̾̐e̵̯̻̙̓ ̴̖̾t̸͙̋͒ͅh̵̤̃̍e̴͇̻̓̀̏ͅ ̷͖̼̯̈u̴̹͓͕̎̌s̷̫̔̓͆e̸̡͝ ̵͎̙̓o̵̰͖͚͒̍ḟ̴̫̓ ̷̮̬͐̃͐ẗ̵̪͖̺́̋̽h̸͍̘́ạ̵͙͛̏t̵͍̓?̴̟̲̦̈ it asks. Caden feels ashamed. He should know better than to doubt his god. He will not be given more than he can handle. A tentacle strokes through his sweat-damp hair with what feels like approval.

Caden has lost track of how many eggs are stuffed inside him now, but that seems to be all of them. At least, he doesn’t feel another one pressing at his gaping hole, now stretched loose and unresisting. Instead, it’s another tentacle, soft and rubbery, and it thrusts against his prostrate a few times and Caden, already on the edge, falls over into orgasm again. This time he thinks he blacks out; at least, he feels like he’s falling, and time seems to hold no meaning. It seems like he comes for hours, shaking and gasping, his eyes rolling back in his head. When he finally comes back to what passes for reality, his eyelashes are wet with tears, and his stomach is striped with white come mixing with the slime from the tentacles. They aren’t teasing him anymore, just wrapped around him, holding him tight. He thinks they might be even rocking him back and forth, but he isn’t sure. His head might just be spinning. But he’s proud of what he’s done, and he feels safe here, and _loved. _His god knows how much Caden loves him, and feels the same, and has gifted him with its precious eggs for safekeeping. Caden couldn’t be more overjoyed, although right now his joy is dulled by exhaustion.

Slowly the tentacles unwind, and then Caden is tipped gently onto the ground on top of a pile of crushed cornstalks. He opens his eyes and he can’t see his god anymore, although he can still feel it in his mind. I̵͕̦̹͠ ̸͓̓̇̓ẘ̷̻̝̈́i̵͍̩͕͋̋l̶̩̓l̵͓̗̰̅ ̸̧̪͑r̵̮̾͑̏e̶̠͙͎͘t̶͎̣̆̂̈́u̶̘̎͝r̶̠̓n̵͋ͅ,̴̍͜ it says. Ő̸̱̻͐n̵̖̾e̷̞͖̮͝ ̴̢̡́͠y̴̠̩͂e̵͎̤̿̊̈́a̷̹̒̓r̸̗͗ ̶̠f̷̪̝̰̾̇͠ȑ̵̞̲̈̚o̴͍͖̓̓͘m̵͚͉͋̾ ̸̪̫̯̔̐̍n̴͓̺̔́͊͜o̶̰̘͝w̶͙͐̅̎.̶͉̐ Caden nods his understanding.

His fellow disciples gather in a circle around him, although none dare get too close. Their faces are pale in the moonlight, their eyes wide. Caden looks up at them and smiles.

He alone is worthy. He alone is chosen.


End file.
